There are some things in your life that you don’t want to think about. I’ve heard that there are some people who can just deny something happened so hard that they’ll actually wipe it from their memory. As far as they’re concerned, it never happened. I wish I was one of those people.

It isn’t easy to talk about this. It still hurts. Not physically, though at the time I was sure that I would never be free of pain again, no matter how long I lived. No, the kind of hurt that doesn’t leave a mark on your body, but scars your soul, is so much, so much worse.

I thought I’d escaped that. Ray was back in the states, he was safe. He’d escaped the North Koreans. And Flagg. Yeah, that’s how I thought of it, as an escape. The colonel scared me more than the North Koreans ever thought about scarin’ me. At least with them I knew it was nothing personal. With Flagg, it was all personal.

Flagg...

There’s only one person on the face of this earth that I ever told all of this to. I couldn’t tell Ray. God, no. It would have killed him to know the details. It was bad enough when he found out. I couldn’t even tell most of it to Father Mulcahey, no matter how nice he was, and how much he wanted to help. Hawkeye? I didn’t have to tell him--he saw the physical results. I might have told my Uncle Ed, but I never got the chance. No, the only person I ever told was Sidney. That’s Major Doctor Sidney Freedman. He’s a head doctor.

He helped a lot. I don’t have the nightmares any more.

Well, not like I did. I’ll probably never get rid of them entirely. Sometimes even an old, faded scar will throb.

It was a few days after Ray had gone home. I should have been feeling good, and I was--sorta. But...

Well, you know how sometimes when everything is going swell, you find yourself waiting for something bad to happen, because good stuff just can’t go on forever? That’s kinda how it was. I was getting nervous.

That’s how I thought it was, anyway. The one time I shoulda really listened to my instincts, and I ignored them. Though I don’t know what I could’ve done to prevent it, aside from sleeping with Max or in the Swamp. And I’m not sure even that would have stopped Flagg for long. I might have been just walking along, and suddenly found a hand clamped over my mouth...

That’s how it started--with the hand over my mouth.

I’d gone to sleep on my bunk in the Radio Room, like every other night since I’d been at the 4077. I had locked the outside door, like I’d been doing lately. I shoulda known that a little old knob lock wasn’t going to stop someone like Flagg. Lock picking was probably one of the first things they taught them in spy school.

I was sleeping as peacefully as I had been lately. I had Ray’s teddy bear tucked in my arms, so that helped. Couldn’t hug my fella, but I could hug somethin’ he gave me. I already knew that the colonel could be quiet, but I had no idea how quiet he could be when he really wanted to. Well, he wanted to that night.

I may have mentioned it, but the thing inside my head doesn’t work all the time. The equipment was down that night. The first thing I knew that anything was wrong was when that hand clamped down over my mouth, and pinned me to my pillow. Usually, when you wake up, the nightmare is over. With me, it was just getting started.

Well, my eyes flew open, but I didn’t start fighting. That was because I knew something must be wrong, but I had no idea how wrong. I thought at first that Hawkeye might need something done, like the time he got me to help him reach the states and had a load of barbeque ribs sent over. Well, he said it was an emergency.

But there was some light in the room (not much, just the little lamp over on my desk.), and I saw who it was right away. Flagg. Flagg, squatting down next to my bunk, like the worst dream I ever had made solid.

He didn’t even really need to lay that knife against my face. I think he knew that, too. He might have told himself that it was ‘procedure’ or something, but the real reason was just because he wanted to.

He spoke to me in a quiet, calm voice--like he was striking up a conversation somewhere instead of holding a sharp object on me. “You’re not going to scream. I expect you to make noise, but you aren’t going to do anything that might be even remotely interpreted as calling for help. Is that clear?” I blinked. Well, I couldn’t nod. “Good.”

He took his hand away, and it was all I could do to keep from spitting. It was like... like... like how you’d feel if a lizard or a spider crawled across you when you were asleep. I think he knew what I was thinking, because he turned the blade just a fraction, so that it scraped the little bristles that were going to make it necessary soon for me to have one of my three times a week shaves. I didn’t move.

I hissed, “What are you doing??”

He smiled, and I felt a lump of ice forming in my belly. “What? No ‘sir’, O’Reilly? Tsk, tsk. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. You need to learn a little discipline, and some respect for your superiors. I think it’s finally time for that lesson.”

I knew that in a situation where someone is holding a weapon on you, the smart thing to do is to tell them whatever they want to hear, and hope something will happen to get you away from them. But I couldn’t. I knew it wouldn’t make much difference what I said, anyway. “Go to hell! There’s nothing you can teach me, and nothing I’d want to learn from you.”

His smile never wavered, but suddenly that hand was back on my mouth, and his other hand flicked, and there was a sharp pain high up on my right cheek. “Have I got your attention now? Don’t make me do that again, O’Reilly. It would be a fucking shame to mark up that pretty face any more than I have to.” Still gripping the knife, he stuck out his thumb, wiped up the drop of blood that had oozed from the tiny cut, and licked it away. I felt sick. I was in real trouble.

The hand moved again. I whispered. “You are in so much trouble. Colonel Potter will...”

“The old man will do nothing, because you’re not going to say anything to him.”

“Yeah? Well, I got news for you. I will tell.”

“No, you won’t, O’Reilly.”

“You think you can argue me out of it?”

“Yes. With two words, three little syllables. Raymond Shaw.”

Flagg’s POV

The look on his face. I swear, if I wasn’t already hard just thinking about him, being close to him, touching him, smelling him... that would have done it. He looked wounded. “I know you’re not stupid, O’Reilly, and I hope you’re not going to act like I am. You’re not going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about, are you?”

“No.” He hesitated, staring at me. The next syllable almost seemed to choke him. “Sir.”

I stiffened even more. Yes, this was good. This was right. This was how it should be. I moved the tip of the blade down, tracing a line down his throat. “You know that I was the one who debriefed Shaw. He didn’t come right out and say it, but there’s no way you could have missed it with what he wrote you. Oh, yes, I saw it, “ I assured him, answering his unspoken question. “There’s a copy of it in a safe place. There are copies of a good number of your correspondence. They’re very sweet, O’Reilly. It’s wonderful how much can be conveyed without actually using the words ‘I love you’ or ‘I want you.’"

“Those were personal and private.”

God, he sounds so indignant. It’s all I can do to keep a straight face. “Personal? Oh, my , yes. But private? Not in this army, soldier. Now, let’s see, what is there besides the letters? Oh, yes. There’s statements from the attendants at the bath house, and the manager at the hotel you stayed at. He found it very curious that you two would need condoms, but didn’t take a girl up with you--and after he so generously offered to find you one.”

He had turned pale, and his eyes were enormous. He could feel my grip tightening on him, and I didn’t even have my hands on him--then. That was all I needed to tell him, really, but I was having so much fun. He reacted beautifully.

“That was a dreadful place, wasn’t it? The walls were so thin. I mean, if someone just sneezed in the next room... And you and Ray certainly did more than sneeze.”

I stroked the flat of the blade over his chest, wrinkling his T-shirt. “It almost drove me crazy, listening to you two. I must have beat off four... five times. But you know, O’Reilly? No matter how much jizm I dropped, I just couldn't get satisfied. You’re going to help me.”

I waited to see if he would protest any more. I had him by the balls, and he knew it. Like I’d told him, he wasn’t stupid. That was a little of what had attracted me to him from the beginning. He isn’t what he seems--like me.

He didn’t say anything, but his breathing speeded up. I kept stroking him with the edge of the blade, like I was trying to shave him. You learn all kinds of interrogation techniques. This is one of my favorite. It scares and confuses them at the same time. That’s because it’s very physically and emotionally stimulating. The body reacts to stimuli--any kind of stimuli, and often in strange and wonderful ways. His nipples started to get hard.

I could see how shocked and angry he was when I flicked the little peak thrusting up against the soft cotton, and he realized what was happening.

Radar’s POV

I couldn’t believe it. How could that happen? I hated the man. Not disliked--hated! And now my body was responding to him. It was giving the same sort of reaction it had to Ray.

Flagg was silent for a minute, watching me. He was gaging my reaction, I guess. I just waited for him to say something. I knew there wasn’t a thing in the world I could do or say right then that would change what he intended to do.

He slid the knife up under my shirt at the hem, back against my belly, then pulled up slowly. The knife was as sharp as any of the scalpels the doctors kept in OR. The fabric of my shirt split apart like it was tissue paper. He kept cutting till he had it completely off me, talking all the while.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when I managed to get assigned to Shaw. Let me tell you, there were a lot of operatives after that assignment, but I pulled a few strings. I’m so glad I did.” He still held the knife in his right hand. He put his left hand on my chest, and started to play with the hair. “You see, O’Reilly, I already knew enough to make this little visit, but I got more. When I go back to the states, Ray Shaw is my ticket to a cushy job--one where I can really make a difference, shake things up.”

I thought about Ray’s stepdad, Senator Iselin. It had to be something to do with him. “And when he wrote that letter I figured he’d be disoriented enough to slip a little, but I never dreamed he’d give me so much I could use. He more or less handed you over to me, O’Reilly. Do you think I should thank him?”

I didn’t know he was cutting my shorts till I heard a kind of purring sound. It was the noise his knife made splitting the material from the hem to the waistband on my right leg. Then he repeated the process on the left side. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.

He used the blade again to move the rags aside, leaving me naked. The air was warm in the room, but that didn’t stop me from shivering. The blade slowly stroked my belly, and it felt like my balls were trying to crawl back up inside my body and hide. I didn’t blame them.

He slipped the blade down between my thighs, with the blade facing up my body. It was only about two or three inches from my crotch. Flagg’s voice was almost tender, and I wanted to vomit. “Spread your legs.” I did like he said, moving slowly and carefully, praying that he wouldn’t slip, or I wouldn’t have a muscle spasm.

He reached down with his free hand, and started to fondle my balls, rolling them in his fingers. “Yes, I really should tell him thank you. This was going to happen any way. I’ve wanted to fuck you from the first time I came in here, and you were bending over that file cabinet. I never saw such a sweet little package in all my life. And then you turn out to be interesting, too.”

He was stroking my cock now. I clenched my fists at my side, and gritted my teeth, but that was all I dared do.

Flagg’s POV

Hm. He stopped responding physically. Ah, well. Sometimes, if the psychological resistance is strong enough, if the subject’s hatred is strong enough, you can’t carry that form of interrogation to the conclusion. He must really hate me. He's going to hate me a lot more after the next hour or so.

“Well, I guess you aren’t going to get hard for me, are you, corporal? That’s all right. I was trying to be generous, but it isn’t necessary for you to enjoy this. I’m going to put this,” I wiggled the knife slightly, “away. What do you think I’ll do if you do something foolish, like try to take it, or try to run from me, or fight?” I waited, but he didn’t answer. “Do you think I’d kill you?” He hesitates, then nods. He looks almost hopeful. I judged his thinking correctly.

“No. Do any of those things, and I’ll make my way to America, hunt down Raymond Shaw, fuck him, then cut his throat. I’ll do it, O’Reilly. Please don’t think I won’t. Ray’s a good looking man. I really wish I could have gotten better acquainted with him, but they just wouldn’t let me have the isolation I would have needed. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.” Again the hesitation. “Sir.”

“Outstanding.” I put the knife on the floor, stand up, and start to open my pants. As much as I’d like to strip and feel him all over me, I can’t risk taking the extra time. “Turn over.”

I get my belt undone as he shifts, lying on his stomach. I hardly notice the soft thump near my feet. When I glance down, there’s a brown teddy bear with a red ribbon around it’s neck there beside my boots. I can’t help smiling as I kick it under the bunk.

He hugs his pillow, burying his face. I feast my eyes on the sturdy grace of his compact body as I work my fly open. So small, so perfect. Mine for the taking. I only wish I could have been the one to open him for the first time, but I suspect there haven’t been many, if any, besides Shaw. He’s still fresh, and the way I intend to take him, he’ll be as good as a virgin.

I strip off my pants, leaving my boots on. You never take your boots off unless you have to. Never know when a hasty escape will be necessary, and it isn’t your ass that will be in contact with every stone and thorn out there on the ground in the dark. Then I get on the bunk with him, kneeling between his spread legs.

I almost wished I could take my time with him. I was sure I could make him enjoy it, if I just had enough time. But... Well, it isn’t a perfect world, is it? And I was past ready. My cock had never been harder. I mean, I was rampant. I had a passing thought that this was going to hurt him--a lot.

Good.

I spread him open, exposing the tiny, pink asshole. Greasy pre-com was drooling from my glans, and I smeared it quickly over my cock head. That was all the lubrication he was getting. I fitted myself against his opening, holding myself steady with one hand, and pressing the other down on the small of his back, pinning him in place. He wasn’t going to try to get away, not with what I’d threatened to his boyfriend. But I didn’t want him jumping with pain and unseating me before I could get lodged firmly.

He was as tense as a strung wire under me. He was only making it harder on himself. If he’d relaxed, it might not be quite as bad. As it was, I was really going to have to push to force my way in.

I gritted my teeth, and rammed. He cried out. He wasn’t trying to attract attention, so I didn’t punish him for it. It just hurt too bad for him to stay quiet, and I kind of liked that.

I’d only sunk in about three inches, only about a third of the way. But I had to pause for a moment, and catch my breath. “Damn, you are tight, soldier boy! This is gonna be fantastic.”

I grabbed his hips, and made another hard jab, and again he cried out. I could see his hands working in the pillow, nails scratching at the fabric. One more strong lunge, and I was in. My balls slapped against his, and I grunted with triumphant satisfaction. “There! You took it all, soldier.”

His voice was faint and strained. “Just... just do it and get it over with.”

“Oh, so you want me to do it?” He groaned, and I laughed. “Sure, soldier. I can give you all you want.” I started to move inside him. It wasn’t easy at first, he was so dry. But I wasn’t about to stop now, not even if it rubbed my cock raw. It was worth it for the hot, sweet grip of his flesh.

He whimpered quietly now and then as I pounded into him. This wasn’t going to last long. I’d waited too long, and he was just too damn good. Just as I started to slide a little more easily, I could feel myself hurtling toward the edge, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop it, so I just went with it. I pounded as hard and as fast as I could, drilling into him, bracing my booted feet and pushing him up in the bed till his curly head bumped the wall. And I came with a gush of heat and wetness, throwing my seed into his tight channel, hips bucking in the closest thing to helpless I’d ever experienced.

Radar’s POV

It hurt so much I didn’t think I could stand it. I kept wishing I could faint, but the O’Reilly’s have never been fragile. Anyway, if I had fainted, I expect Flagg would have just slapped me awake again, then finished fucking me.

I just kept telling myself,It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon. That one sentence kept running through my mind as I felt his sweat dropping on me, as it felt like I was being split apart. Finally he went tense, and it seemed like his dick swelled even larger, and he came. It was the first time I’d ever felt a man’s come spurt inside me. Ray had always used a condom. Careful, neat, gentle Ray. I hated Flagg for that first, if for nothing else. It should have been Ray.

When he was through, he just let his weight drop on me. I could hardly breathe, but that was okay. If I could have breathed, then I would have had enough air to cry, and I didn’t want to cry for him.

Any way, it was over, finally. I don’t know how long we lay there. A long time, it seemed like, though it probably wasn’t more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Finally I couldn’t stand it any more, and I muttered, “You got what you wanted. Now get out.”

He shifted. I thought for a minute he was going to do it, get up and leave. But he hadn’t even pulled out of me. His prick was still deep inside me. And, to my horror, I could feel it starting to swell again. “That was the easy one, soldier. I got what I needed, and now I’m gonna get what I want.”

Flagg’s POV

He hasn’t cried yet. I need him to cry before this is over. He may not be that physically impressive, but he’s a tough little cookie, I’ll give him that. That was one of the things that attracted me. The way he’s always stood up to me, only giving enough to keep from out and out insubordination. There’s nothing better than breaking someone with high spirits.

It doesn’t take me long to recover, and I’m ready for a second go round. He wasn’t expecting that. I wonder if his boyfriend can do the same. I think about asking him, making him think about how I’m taking what he’s preserved for his precious Ray. But that might be a little too much. You have to be careful that you don’t push them past the breaking point, or they sometimes turn on you.

The second time was even better than the first. He was a little more open, but still good and tight. And the slide was easier, what with my come greasing the way. I took it slow. This was probably going to be my only chance with O’Reilly, and I intended to take away some memories. I’ve had sex a lot of different ways. I’ve had pussy, and I’ve had both male and female blow jobs and ass. I’m telling you now, I’ve never had anything sweeter than that boy.

I had stamina, now that the first orgasm was out of the way, and it lasted a long, long time. Finally I couldn’t hold back any more, and speeded up. When I really started pounding into him, I lifted him a little, changing the angle of penetration so that I could scrape over his prostate with each lunge. I knew that, even with the pain, this would give him raw physical pleasure that he wouldn’t be able to ignore, no matter how he tried. I think that’s what finally got me my tears.

He never did get hard, but he started gasping each time I went into him, and I knew that the little pleasure bump was doing what nature had intended. I grabbed his hair with one hand, pulling his face up out of the pillow, and touched his cheek with the other. My fingers came away salty-wet, and I shot my load into him again.

Finally sated, I pulled out. He took a great whooping inhalation at the fresh pain, but otherwise made no noise. His body had finally lost it’s rigidity. Now he was limp, trembling.

I used the rags of his clothing to clean myself quickly. Judging from the mess, he might just as well have been a virgin. He certainly bled like one.

I retrieved my knife, and looked at him, consideringly. The sensible thing to do would be to slit his throat before I left. There was no danger in that, and loose ends are to be avoided, but I didn’t really want to. I liked the idea of O’Reilly having to live with what I’d done to him. I liked the fact that, for a long time, if not for the rest of his life, every time he woke up suddenly in the dark, for that first second, he’d see me crouching over him.

I sheathed the knife, and bent over him again. “Remember me, O’Reilly. Every time your pretty Boston Brahmin fucks you, think about my cock in your ass. Remember that I took you, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. And if I ever want you again, I can take you again. Remember that.”

I left.